Chapter 1 Cole #11
Soon, I’m running past the bakery, cinnamon still in the air, past tidy lawns and too-bright porches.
Suddenly Lisa Clancy, née Melville, gives me a hesitant wave. She’s holding a stroller in front of her like a shield. Reluctantly I stop.
“Wow. Heard you were back. I wasn’t sure it’s true,” she says with a small smile.
“It’s true.”
“This is June,” she says, gesturing at the baby. “She’s one.”
“Cute.”
She fumbles. “Anyway… the Pumpkin Dance. The rumors, I… I started them. Well, you know that already. But I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I had the biggest crush on you, and I was jealous. I didn’t think about what it would do to you. Or him,” Lisa gabbles.
“You outed me,” I say coldly. “Turned me into gossip. And it hit Cole too. You had no right.”
She flinches. “I know. I really am sorry.”
I kind of believe her. She looks tired, a bit worn, but sincere. I let the silence sit heavy before I finally mutter, “Thanks for saying it. Doesn’t make it fine. But we were kids.”
She nods, small. I move on before the past drags me under.
The trail cuts behind Oak Lane. There’s a shortcut I often used with Cole when we went back to his after school.
But now I stop dead. Sheriff Willard and Andrew Hudson stand under the oaks, heads bent close.
It’s not neighborly talk. Their postures are too tight, voices low, eyes flicking like men rehearsing lies.
I change direction, pulse hammering. Not from the run — from instinct. That wasn’t small talk. That looked like damage control.
When the trail opens out near the park, I’m hit with another unwanted sight.
Cole and Caspian. They’re side by side at the trailhead, stretching, cheeks flushed, laughing at something I can’t hear.
Caspian’s in fitted gear that probably costs more than Frankie’s whole garage. Cole’s drowning in an oversized hoodie and still looks so good it rips something open in me.
Caspian hands him a bottle of water. Their fingers brush. Cole tips his head back, throat working, then laughs again at whatever smooth bullshit Caspian just said.
We never ran together. Cole hated running. Said he’d only do it if there was a bear after him. So where’s the fucking bear?
Jealousy burns through me, hot and fast.
Caspian steadies his back when Cole leans too far into a stretch, and I almost groan out loud. Since when has Cole been that bendy? And would it kill Stone if he kept his hands off Cole in public spaces so I wouldn’t have to watch?
In my head, I walk over. I grab Cole by the hoodie and kiss him until I’m all he remembers. But that’s just a fantasy.
Reality is me standing here, locked out of my life while someone else gets the smiles, the touches, the parts of him I used to think were mine.
So I just jog off, lungs burning, the sound of their laughter fading to nothing.
Just like me.
COLE
This cursed week is ticking toward my date with James Lexington III. I pull into my parents’ driveway, park, and quickly text James that I’m running late.
“Remember, I’m meeting a grown-up friend for dinner,” I say when I unbuckle Noah.
“Why can’t Uncle Caspian come here?” he asks. “I want to see him too.”
I hide a smile. “Because it’s not Caspian I’m meeting, bud. Look, there’s Grandma.”
“Then who?” Noah persists. “Caspian’s your only friend.”
I sigh. He’s not wrong. Caspian’s been my best friend since the last one left four years ago.
Before that, there were more people, like Alex and Devon, my old bandmates. Things got weird between us after I literally became a dad overnight and had to cancel all our plans. They said they understood, but we drifted apart once they left for uni.
Mom gives me a critical once-over while somehow also checking her watch.
“What kept you? Judging by that Walmart George ensemble, it wasn’t choosing proper eveningwear.”
“Life kept me,” I mutter. “Didn’t have time to change. I’ll add the diamond tiara next time.”
She sighs. “No need to get cheeky. You’d look dashing if you made even a little effort. Great bone structure, nice hair, although a little trim wouldn’t kill you.” She touches my cheek, brief but warm. “I know you’ve got money. Why not ask where James gets his suits? They’re impeccable.”
“If I ever want to wear something by Posh and Pretentious, James will be my first call.”
She sighs again but perks up. “I had the maid organize all my jewelry in the living room by genre. I’ll teach Noah about value, and the proper occasions for a gentleman to gift his beloved a diamond brooch.”
“Sounds like a fun night,” I say to Noah, then turn to Mom. “One hour, okay? That’s his bedtime.”
As the door closes, I hear Noah ask, “Grandma, did dinosaurs wear bracelets?”
Fifteen minutes later, I step into Maison Argent, the poshest restaurant near Baywood.
James stands up and kisses my cheek. He lingers, the faint cologne cloud following me as he pulls out my chair, brushing my shoulder on the way. His hand stays a second too long at the back of my chair, like I need help sitting.
What’s next? A subtle ear lick?
“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” he says. “Ahi Tuna Tartare with Pickled Quail Egg and Yuzu Pearl. You’re welcome.”
It sounds like something that requires a liability waiver.
The waiter stands by, awaiting a verdict on the wine. James swirls, inhales theatrically, then nods royally. The waiter retreats.
“My stylist in Milan would love to help,” James says, glancing at my jacket. His fingers brush the cuff like he’s inspecting the fabric. Excuse me? I wasn’t asking for fashion tips, grazie mille.
I zone out halfway through his investment story. I’m dreading that pickled whatever-it-was and take a nervous sip of wine.
“…so I moved my investments before the market could correct itself. You’d be surprised how many people didn’t see it coming.”
“Um, yes,” I say. He looks at me like I’ve just confirmed my place as a charming simpleton.
“I know our lives are very different, Cole,” he says softly. His hand lands on mine for emphasis, his thumb grazing my knuckle like punctuation. “I understand hearing about my financial achievements can feel overwhelming.”
Nope, not overwhelming. Try frustratingly privileged. And maybe stop talking to me like I’m some clueless teenager who doesn’t understand money. I bought a house for my kid with my own money. Your financial achievements, on the other hand, are based on your trust fund.
I smile equally softly. “And I understand that being a condescending prick just comes naturally to some people.”
James blinks and then, in a shocking turn of events, apologizes. “I’ve been told I come off a bit—”
“Insufferable?” I offer, because I’m still annoyed.
“I was going for curated, but fair enough,” he sighs. His hand retreats, but not before squeezing mine lightly, as though I’m some trembling ingénue.
Objectively, he’s a handsome man. Subjectively, I’ve felt more chemistry with a wilted fern.
Our food arrives. Something green and glistening stares at me.
“Don’t you just love Japanese citrus?” James asks, his tone a bit more wary after my snark.
He leaves forward, eyes bright, watching my fork like he’s waiting for my first bite.
No, I don’t love Japanese citrus. But apparently I have it in my tartare.
I also have an urge to flee to the nearest fry stand.
We eat in silence for a while. Well, he eats, I poke.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?” James suddenly asks.
“Here,” I say pointedly. “Where my son’s school is.”
James frowns. “You mean Lizzie’s kid?” His words hit like a slap. I hate it when people assume I’m some temporary solution.
“No. I mean my son,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You can’t honestly mean to stay in Baywood forever,” he says, baffled. I glare at him.
James exhales. “Cole, I must admit I’m very attracted to you. And I admire the inner strength you’ve shown taking care of your… son.” His hand finds my forearm this time, warm and heavy, like he’s rewarding me.
Oh dear Lord. I think my soul briefly exited my body.
“In you, I see an unpolished diamond,” he says wistfully. His eyes sweep over me like he’s evaluating a purchase, and suddenly I feel less like a date and more like an object up for auction.
I force a smile. “You’ll have to excuse me. Noah’s sitter just texted.”
“I thought you said he’s with your parents?”
“Yes,” I say brightly as if that makes perfect sense.
Outside, James lightly touches my elbow. “Maybe next time I’ll take you shopping in Milan,” he says, kissing my cheek like we just set the date. I shudder. Watching him walk away — all crisp confidence — I feel nothing but relief. Well, that, and the realization I’m starving.
Worst. Week. Ever. And I didn’t even get fries.
XADEN
It’s late at night when I pull out my burner and dial Keller.
“This isn’t the kind of intel you deliver on the phone, Bailey,” Keller says testily. “You’re supposed to be focused on the task, not ring me because a baker threw a hissy fit.”
“I am focused,” I say. “But JJ and Ronnie are more restless than before.”
“Is it the baker you’re worried about — or your ex?
” Keller’s voice is flat, clinical. Like a scalpel.
I expected him to know about Cole. I didn’t expect that kind of detachment.
Or the way he lingered on ex . “Big Sam wants Mike. JJ and Ronnie have a place to crash. As long as no one’s bleeding, keep calm and do your job,” he adds.
“With respect, JJ’s volatile at the best of times, and Ronnie gets twitchy if he goes too long without using his knife. They’ve both made it clear they enjoy harassing Cole Hudson,” I point out.
Keller exhales, irritated. “Hudson again. You keep circling back to him. Tell me, Bailey, is he a liability, or are you?”
I stay quiet. Finally, Keller barks: “What are you suggesting?”
“Permission to reveal my cover to a civilian if it comes to that.”
“If you break cover, you end the op. You end your career. You end everything.”
“I’m not asking to tell him everything. Just enough, if the situation calls for it. I want that call to be mine.”